Disconnected
by jadefervidus
Summary: Joining the Authority seemed like a good idea at first, but it doesn't take long for Seth to wonder where he truly belongs. Set between the Shield split and WWE Battleground.
1. June 1 - WWE Payback

**Title:** Disconnected.  
**Words:** 757.  
**Part:** 1/?

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine. Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, Hunter Helmsley belong to WWE.

* * *

**June 1 - WWE Payback**

If you asked Seth why he chose to destroy the Shield, he would lie to you.

He would tell you that he had evolved. He would tell you that he had accomplished as much as he could within the Shield and decided it was time for him to move on. He would tell you that he was better than the other members of the Shield and he deserved to shine. He would tell you that this is the way the business works; you step on whomever you needed to to make it to the top, even if the rungs in your ladder happen to be the men you had called brothers for almost two years. He would tell you that he was shallow and couldn't resist the perks of being one of Hunter's boys; from the money, to the upscale hotels and methods of travel, to the business opportunities, to the women that were more than happy to stroke his ego and keep him satisfied in whatever ways he desired.

But that's not it.

Why? Because he was tired.

The Shield had earned their top position in World Wrestling Entertainment by screwing over anyone they had to. They chose not to care about who was in their way, whether it was the veterans such as CM Punk, John Cena or Randy Orton, or mid carders that had fallen into semi-obscurity. And their technique worked - but it gave them a target on their backs and a price on their heads. Nowhere was safe and no one, outside of themselves, was to be trusted. After almost two years of looking around every corner, never going anywhere alone and sleeping with one eye open, Seth was fed up. He didn't bust his ass for years in the independents and developmental to spend his career destroying some of the men he had idolised since childhood, no matter where he had ended up because of it.

Why? Because he was frustrated.

As close as they were onscreen, it was more so in real life. In the beginning, they had been close. Sure, he and Dean had spent almost two years trying to destroy each other in FCW, but they had both been friends with Roman and he had convinced them to lay down their guns for the sake of their careers. They worked, travelled, ate and worked out. They shared hotel rooms. They shared a locker room. Most of the time, unless they had to go home for a specific reason, they would alternate whose house they stayed at on their rare days off. But after creative announced that Roman would be replacing Dean as the so-called leader of the Shield and was to be pushed in a year's time, the harmless bickering over someone's music choice or preferred condiment escalated into full on blow outs about family names and talent that had them regularly kicked out of their hotels.

Seth knew it was because Dean was jealous. Dean had spent ten years establishing his name as one of the biggest independent wrestlers of their generation and earning his reputation as the top star of FCW, whereas Roman was a footballer whose father pulled some strings to get him a try out. Needless to say, Dean wasn't happy with management's decision and chose to take it out on his partner in any way he could. Seth would never admit that he was just as angry as Dean, so he occupied himself with keeping them from accidentally killing each other and trying to keep the Shield from falling apart.

Why? Because he was sick of being their mediator.

If he were completely honest with himself, Seth would admit that he hadn't given a second thought to his stable mates - his brothers - when Hunter had slid his new contract across the polished wood of his desk. He didn't consider how Dean and Roman would feel, or what they would do, or how they would react. He didn't consider what would happen his and Roman's friendship, or his complicated relationship with Dean, when they finally found out what he had done. But at that moment, he didn't care. So, with his body swollen, bruised, exhausted and covered in sweat, water and baby oil, he signed the dotted line. As he dropped the pen, a weight seemed to lift. He was tired, he was frustrated and he was thinking of himself.

It felt good to be done.


	2. June 2 - Monday Night Raw

**Title:** Disconnected.  
**Words: **4,041.**  
****Part: **2/?

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine. Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, Hunter Helmsley, Stephanie McMahon and Randy Orton belong to WWE.

* * *

**June 2 - Monday Night Raw**

Seth knows he's hyperactive.

It's something he's been plagued with since he was a child. He always had to be outside, running around the garden, chasing other children in the playground or climbing the trees that lined his family's property. He remembers his mother constantly struggling to keep up with him and he remembers their constant fighting over trying to get him into bed. But now he's older, Seth is able to use this excess energy productively; he sweats it off in the gym or uses it in the ring, or channels it into planning and choreographing his matches. The only problem he has with it is that he has never, and still isn't, capable of sitting still for longer than ten minutes (unless he's sleeping). Normally, it isn't a problem - his job is fast-paced and having the chance to sit still is a rarity, so his hyperactivity benefits him.

However, it makes sitting through meetings almost impossible.

A discreet glance at his watch shows him that he's been tracing the patterns on the leaves of the flowers in the vase in front of him for the last seventeen minutes and thirty-six seconds.

It also tells him that the 'brief meeting' he had been summoned to was entering its third hour. He had been happily sweating his ass off at the gym when he'd received a text saying Hunter and Stephanie needed to see him. Seth had assumed it would be a quick run through of the upcoming night's events, but no - it turned out to be a full on Authority meeting that has him listening to an absolutely useless plan of attack rather than letting him be productive.

Seth sighs, looking around the room for another distraction. So far he'd counted the number of leaves on the pot plants by the door (twenty-three leaves between two plants), counted the number of flowers in the vase on the table (four orange daisies, six pink roses, six yellow roses, five white tulips and twelve sprigs of generic greenery), recited the alphabet backwards twice and mentally sung the entirety of A Day to Remember's album _Common Courtesy_.

He decides to amuse himself this time around by mentally swapping Kane and Orton's body parts. A few minutes later, the sound of his name breaks his concentration.

"Seth?"

The two-tone man's attention snaps to his new boss. "Uh, sorry, Hunter, I wasn't listening. What was that?"

"I was asking what your plan of attack is tonight," Hunter repeats, looking amused.

Seth clears his throat, thankful that Hunter's still happy enough with signing him that he's not in trouble. "To be honest with you, Hunter, I don't have one."

"And why is that?" It's the first time Orton - Seth decided that calling him Randy was too weird - has ever spoken to Seth without sounding like a condescending megalomaniac.

"I don't have enough information yet."

"How can you not have enough information?" Kane demands from across the table. "You designed the damned stable!"

"Because it's an unpredictable situation," Seth levels the demon with a look. "There are too many variables for me to plan this ahead of time, alright? Ambrose is a lunatic and Reigns lashes out whenever the hell he feels like it. So I don't know how they're going to react. I don't know if they'll stay in the ring. I don't know if they'll start a brawl. I don't know if they'll get weapons. I don't know if they'll be standing in front or behind me. I don't know if I'll be out of their sight long enough to make a move at all."

"Is there anything you _do_ know?" interrupts Batista angrily.

"Actually, there is," Seth responds with a condescending nod. "You see, I know those two better than anybody. I can't predict their actions but I sure as hell can read them when they're happening. So rest assured that when the time comes, I willknow exactly what to do."

The bigger man raises an eyebrow, looking at the room's other occupants. "I don't know about you guys but I'm just not comfortable with that."

Hunter clears his throat. "Well, Dave, I'm the boss and I trust the kid. He's right. He knows them. He can get in their heads. He's an insider."

"Exactly!" Batista growls, slamming a fist on the table. "He's an insider! How do we know this isn't the Shield trying to destroy us from the inside? Signing this asshole," he gestures to Seth, who merely raises an eyebrow, "is the stupidest thing you've ever done, Hunter!"

"Seth, you can go," Stephanie says as Batista and Hunter stare each other down.

Seth nods gratefully and moves to leave. "Do you need me to do anything before tonight?"

"No," the brunette shakes her head, "just act normal. The last thing we need is anyone getting wind of this. We'll see you this evening."

The two-tone man nods once more before sneaking one last glance around the room. Stephanie is watching Hunter carefully, Orton and Kane look quite uncomfortable, Batista is turning red from anger and Hunter is opening his mouth to retort.

Seth is sure he's never left a room faster in his life.

* * *

"And where the fuck have you been exactly?"

Seth blinks at his teammate's chosen greeting but he's not surprised by it. "None of your damn business, Ambrose," he sighs, dumping his bag on the bench.

Dean scoffs. He's leaning against the bathroom's doorframe, carefully winding tape around his left hand. "Actually, _Rollins_, it is because in case you've forgotten, we had a tactical meeting scheduled for one this afternoon."

Using his position of facing away from Dean to his advantage, the younger man makes a face at the reminder. He hadn't forgotten about the meeting; Stephanie and Hunter just wouldn't let him out of theirs. Not that he could tell Dean and Roman that. "Sorry, guys. Got distracted."

He hears Roman huff, knowing it's accompanied by a disbelieving glare (he can feel it burning into the back of his head). "You never forget this shit," the Samoan responds. "It was your idea."

That was true. Seth always insisted on regrouping before facing anyone they'd beaten the previous night. He always preached that people are more likely to strike before the dust settles. _So you better watch your back very closely after tonight_, a voice in his head comments. "I know."

"Well, if 'you know', where the fuck were you?" Dean growls.

Seth collapses onto the bench, mentally flying through plausible excuses - the blond is never easy to fool. "I was getting a massage, okay? Jumping off the stands last night wasn't the most brilliant idea I've ever had. I just, I lost track of time," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry." He figures sincerity is the easiest way to get Dean off his back.

"Dean, don't," Roman warns.

"No, Roman, fuck off because I'm not buying that bullshit." _Okay, maybe sincere isn't the way to go_, Seth thinks to himself. "We're in just as much pain as poor baby Sethie but we fucking showed up on time, okay?"

"What the hell is your problem?" the two-tone man snaps.

"You are!" comes Dean's retort as the blond crosses the room, getting in Seth's face. "I don't know what you're doing or what you're planning, Rollins, but you better let us in on it fucking ASAP."

Roman steps between them, pushing Seth back down onto the bench before shoving Dean a few steps back. "Listen to me, both of you. I know we haven't been on the same page in a long time. Hell, it's been longer than I'm sure any of us would like to admit and we all know that the Shield is probably goin' to bust soon. But until that happens, we need to sort this out because we can't work together this way. Seth, what's your problem, man?"

The younger man cocks an eyebrow at the phrasing. "My problem is you two! You and Dean have been trying to kill each other for a fucking year and suddenly I'm the fucking bad guy? I have busted my ass for twelve straight months trying to keep you two in line so we don't get fired, and I'm fucking sick of it! It's a miracle that the two of you can get along long enough to give me a hard time."

"Alright, Dean, your turn," Roman sighs.

"I'm tired of Seth always spouting the stupid fucking architect crap," the blond huffs, dropping himself onto the opposing bench, "because it's bullshit. All of us are equally responsible for this team, not just the golden boy. And I'm sick of everyone blowing smoke up your ass too, Roman," he adds as an afterthought.

The Samoan sighs but doesn't make a comment. "Okay, we got absolutely nowhere with that. Look, the Shield doesn't work like this. With Evolution gunning for us, we need to be united or we're going to fall. At least for now, we need to put this shit aside and do what we do best."

"Hating each other is what we do best," Seth replies, ignoring the pained look that flitters across his teammate's face.

"Don't say that," asks Roman.

"No, he's right," Dean smirks. "I don't remember the last time I wasn't pissed at either of you."

Seth stands, shoving his tape into the pocket of his ring pants. "I'm glad to know that feeling's mutual, Ambrose. It's about time you paid attention to something other than yourself, right?"

He sidesteps Roman and heads for the door, pausing when Dean speaks.

"Because it's your turn to be a self-centred dick bag now?"

As he walks out the door, the youngest man responds. "Maybe it is."

* * *

Seth's not entirely aware of what he's saying. The words slip from his lips, the taunts against Evolution and the boasting of the Shield. After almost two years, he doesn't have to think about it, and since Dean and Roman haven't given him any strange looks, he assumes he's doing fine.

It's not until Evolution's music hits that he manages to think straight.

As soon as Dean and Roman move, Seth has his attack plan sorted. Chairs - simple, easy to swing and they can take a lot of damage. It was almost as if fate wanted this to happen. Dean and Roman wouldn't question a chair in Seth's hand, assuming it would be for Hunter and Randy, and it wouldn't make any noise before it connected with its intended target. Mind set, Seth slides out of the ring and grabs a few chairs, purposely leaving a spare on the mat. From the look Hunter gives him, he gets the hint.

The younger man feels almost numb, standing in the ring next to the men he's about to betray. His mind and body feel like two different entities, both managing to function on their own just enough for Dean and Roman to believe there was nothing wrong but unable to do much else. The chair in his hand is the only thing that seems to make sense.

"There's _always_ a plan B."

When he hears those few little words, it's like the pieces slot back together. The tumultuous emotions he'd been feeling since last night, previously swirling through his head and his chest at their leisure, shoot together, mixing and expanding until Seth feels like he could choke on the ball of hot self-righteous rage burning in the back of his throat.

He doesn't though. He merely adjusts his grip on the steel and swings.

Roman gets the first shot because he's the closest. If he had gone for Dean first, Roman wouldn't have hesitated to toss Seth on his ass outside of the ring and then he would've lost the element of surprise. Some part of Seth knows that Roman can't take chairs as well as he and Dean can, and apparently that part is strong enough to make Seth stop after one hit. Or maybe it's because that part of Seth, deep down, knows this situation really isn't Roman's fault. He had no control over the family he was born into; he had no control over the executives that decided to push him; and he sure as hell had no control over Dean's unwarranted, although honestly expected, reaction.

Dean looks stunned before it turns into confusion. He blinks as he looks between Roman, arching his back on the mat and Seth, who's looking at him evenly. And, honestly, how dare he? In Seth's mind, this is all his fault. If he could've just been okay with management's choices, they wouldn't be in this situation. A small part of Seth's mind snarks that he'd had just as much as a problem with it as Dean, but he tells the voice to shut up - he won't think about that. Oh, no, Seth won't think that because if he does, he knows he'll feel guilty about what he's done. He can't let that happen. If he does, he'll lose his willpower and beg for forgiveness and they will eventually forgive him and they'll end up back exactly where they are now.

This seems to solidify something within him, and just in time. He swings at a pouncing Dean, catching him the gut.

Dean bears the brunt of the punishment, partly because Seth knows it'll take more to hurt him - death matches are a lot worse than a measly little steel chair, after all - and partly because if he'd just kept his mouth shut and his head down, Seth wouldn't have had to do this. The three of them would still be okay, working together and living together the way they had before management fucked it all up. The voice in his head gets louder and his shots get harder. _It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault._

It takes him a minute to realise that the voice isn't yelling at Dean.

In an attempt to quieten the voice of guilt that decided to show up at that particular moment, Seth decides to give Dean a curb stomp. When watching his former brother's head bounce of the black steel doesn't change anything, he slides out of the ring and joins his new boss.

Hunter has a look of barely concealed satisfaction on his face, a smug smirk firmly in place. Seth knows that look, he's worn one of his own often enough to know what it is when he sees it, yet it still irritates him. It seems like Hunter is convinced that he was the one who made him to do this, like he was responsible for the untimely demise of the Shield and not Seth. Feeling decidedly pissed at Hunter's self-satisfaction, the younger man looks to his companion. Randy's gaze is flickering between his face and the chair in his hand, as if trying to decide if Seth was going to turn on them too.

_Smart man_, Seth thinks absently.

In a split second decision that he will later regret, the two-tone man hands the chair to the Viper in a show of good faith. Orton looks at him before taking it and heading to the ring. Seth merely watches his actions play out, feeling Hunter's proud hand on his shoulder. It takes all of his strength to push aside his irritation and not smack the hand away.

As if he'd spotted Seth's consideration for Roman's pain tolerance, Orton goes straight after the Samoan. His answering yells of pain are lost in the static of Seth's mind, his body apparently reverting back to autopilot. The two-tone man doesn't even flinch when Orton rips off his former brother's protective vest; he only follows Hunter back into the ring. He stands above his fallen stable, cataloguing the damage with a neutral expression.

Seth blinks, waiting to see if the carnage left in the ring soothes the anger that had been raging in his mind for the past year.

It doesn't.

It only makes him feel sick.

* * *

Seth is no stranger to his coworkers giving him a wide berth. He never blamed them for it, either, since getting on his bad side usually meant getting a three-on-one beat down within the week. It's self-preservation and he can respect that.

But the berth he was given while in the Shield has absolutely nothing on the one he's being given right now.

Other wrestlers and production officers are lined against the walls, staring at him. Some looks are judgemental, others curious. From some of the people Seth managed to get along with well enough, like Antonio and Heyman, the stares are confused. He ignores them, feeling confused himself after what he'd ben through in the last twenty-four hours. He remains silent as Hunter, Orton and Kane, who had greeted them backstage, take their leave and he doesn't comment when Stephanie opts to remain with him.

There's a suit waiting for him in his locker room. "Stephanie?" He gestures to the garment.

"Hmm? Oh, we're going out for dinner to celebrate. Go shower and change. I'll wait here."

Sure enough, when he re-enters the locker room, Stephanie is still there. Although now a younger woman joins her - a relatively short woman in a pencil skirt Seth finds himself appreciating a little too much. "How do I look?"

"You'll pass," Stephanie smirks before turning to address the pretty brunette. "Katherine, I'd like you to hold my calls for tonight. Unless it's a code red emergency, I'll deal with it tomorrow. You may go."

The brunette, whom Seth now knows as Katherine, nods obediently. "Yes, Ms. McMahon. Have a good evening. Mr. Rollins."

"Miss Katherine," Seth smirks, liking the way her name rolls off his tongue. She blushes before leaving, making him chuckle as he straightens his tie.

Stephanie watches the exchange with a look of mild amusement. "Behave, Seth. Katherine's a good girl who doesn't need your corruptive influence."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't."

From the arena, the group are driven to a nearby restaurant. It's hands down the fanciest establishment Seth's ever stepped foot in, with deep red walls, dark wood floors and expensive looking chandeliers. The group follows a waiter to the top floor, which is every bit as extravagant as its interior. Once seated, Hunter pours them each a glass of champagne before clearing his throat.

"Tonight was a monumental night for the Authority," he begins, looking over at Seth, " and for you, Seth. Honestly, I was having doubts after you signed the contract last night, but tonight? That was truly a work of art."

"Hear, hear," Stephanie chimes in, sending Seth a wink.

"I could go on but I won't. So, I'll simply wrap it up. To a perfectly executed Plan B!" Hunter tilts his glass towards Seth before downing it, the others following suit.

Seth is ninety-eight percent sure that the cool liquid slipping down his throat is worth more than his first car.

"I'm going to get something a little harder," Orton announces after finishing the last of his champagne. "Anybody want anything?"

Hunter, Stephanie and Seth deny the offer as Kane stands. "I'll come with you."

As the pair leave, Hunter's phone rings. Checking the caller ID, the blond sighs. "I need to take this. Excuse me."

Hunter smooths his wife's hair and kisses her softly before answering the call, leaving to find a quieter area of the rooftop. Stephanie smiles softly until he disappears. When she turns back to her remaining companion, she frowns. "Seth, are you okay? You're shaking."

Seth looks down. Even in the dim light of the night, his arms and chest are visibly shaking. "Must be cold, I guess," he lies.

Stephanie frowns. "It's sixty-five degrees out."

The two-tone man opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out. He tries to come up with an excuse or anything to get him out of the impending trouble, yet words are failing him. Finally he sighs, shaking his head. "Stephanie, I -"

"Seth," the brunette cuts him off, placing a comforting hand on his forearm, "it's okay to feel a little disoriented right now. You've been a part of that team for almost two years: I'd be more concerned if you weren't in shock right now. But what you just did? That took a lot of balls. I can only imagine how you're feeling, but Seth," she waits until the younger man looks her in the eye, "you did the right thing. It may not seem like it right now, but it will. They were holding you back, stopping you from reaching your true potential. You did what's best for you and in this industry, that's all that matters. Try to remember that."

"I know, I just..." he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "I never wanted to backstab someone, you know? I've always prided myself on being honest - if I was going to kill someone, I'd look into their eyes while stabbing them in the chest. Tonight was a test of character, I suppose."

"You turned on Punk easily enough, and you certainly had no issue with turning on Kane to protect Jerry Lawler. Not to mention you turned on the Authority as well," Stephanie points out.

Seth frowns, absently noticing that his shivering has stopped. "Turning against Punk wasn't my decision; it was Ambrose's. And with Kane and the Authority, we were tired of doing your dirty work and being kept under your thumb. The Shield's imperative was to right injustice and at the time, we saw your control as an injustice, so we righted a wrong."

"Then why join us now?"

"Stephanie, for my entire career, I have always been the best. Ring of Honor, Full Impact, All American, FCW, NXT, doesn't matter. No matter where I was, I was the best. And the Shield was good. Matter of fact, we were brilliant. We were the top dogs - we dominated the entire roster, some people more than once. Even Evolution," Seth smirks at Stephanie's cocked eyebrow, "but as long as the Authority exists, the Shield will never be at the top. So, for the sake of my life's hard work, I turned my back on my brothers. If selling out is what I have to do to finally be the best in the WWE, then so be it. I did what's best for my business."

Stephanie smirks at his careful wording. "What you're telling me is that you need us as much as we need you, correct?"

Seth looks a little uncomfortable at the phrasing. After all, he'd just spend two years being dependent on other people and look at where that had got him. "Call it a mutually beneficial transaction."

"That's wonderful information." Settling back against her seat, Stephanie swirls her glass of champagne carefully, eyes never leave the man in front of her. "You see, I don't think Hunter's considered the possibility that you may turn on us when he began his," she pauses, thinking, "pursuit of your services."

The younger man returns her gaze. "Did you?"

Looking vaguely impressed, she chuckles. "I'm not a stupid woman, Seth. While Hunter may have plans A, B, C and D, I have the whole alphabet. With that in mind, this is the only warning I'm going to give you." The brunette leans forward, eyes flashing. "I'm a McMahon - my name comes with strings and influence you couldn't even dream of. If you even think about screwing us, I will end you. Is that clear?"

"You seem to be forgetting that I've taken you on before, Stephanie, and I lived to rub it in your face." Seth stretches one arm along the back of the booth, not at all phased by his new boss's almost condescending smile.

"Seth, you were dealing with Hunter then. Rest assured, I am much, much worse."

The corner of Seth's mouth twitches in amusement. "If you don't get in my way, we won't have a problem."

"In that case," she clinks her glass against Seth's before taking a sip, "welcome to the Authority, Mr. Rollins."


End file.
